


Crazy Love

by Gigi_Sinclair



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-20
Updated: 2016-10-20
Packaged: 2018-08-23 14:56:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,134
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8332072
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gigi_Sinclair/pseuds/Gigi_Sinclair
Summary: After a secret wedding, clandestine lovers Captain Armitage Hux and Jedi padawan Ben Solo stop at a remote inn for their honeymoon. The owner, Norman, seems very welcoming, but there might be something a bit strange about his mother...Written for Huxloween: Horror Movie AU (Filler's Choice)





	

**Author's Note:**

> If the summary doesn't ring any bells and you're worried, check the end notes for mild warnings.

  
"I love you so, but I still know it's crazy love." Paul Anka, "Crazy Love", 1963

By the time they arrive at the inn, Hux is jumpy, buzzing with delayed nerves. He grips Ben's waist hard, to keep his hands from shaking, and ignores the flip in his stomach as they pull up on the rented speeder. 

“I'll go check in,” Ben says. He glances over his shoulder as he dismounts. Hux nods, and stays where he is. The inn is small, an unremarkable, low building on the edge of an unremarkable town on an unremarkable planet. Still, Hux looks around, more than half expecting a group of First Order officers, Ben's mother and uncle, or even his own father to suddenly appear from nowhere. 

They don't, of course. It's completely silent, the only movement the occasional scurry of a little rodent across the hard-packed dirt that makes up the inn forecourt. If Hux had ever imagined a honeymoon, he wouldn't have imagined it here, in a place where all of the rooms have doors leading to the speeder lot, as if the patrons often have to leave in a hurry. Then again, Hux thinks, if he'd ever imagined getting married, he'd never have pictured a husband like Ben. 

Ben emerges a moment later, carrying an old-fashioned key card in his hand. He's got a big, crooked grin on his face, but that doesn't mean much. He hasn't stopped smiling since he proposed via holo and Hux, clearly shocked out of his wits, agreed. “We're the only ones staying here tonight,” Ben says. 

“Really?” On the way in, Hux had thought he glimpsed a silhouette in a window at the far end of the building, but if not, so much the better. The fewer witnesses, the greater their chance of getting away with this.

“He put us in the honeymoon suite.” Ben holds up his hands defensively. “I didn't say anything, I swear. It's probably just the nicest room they've got.” 

If it is, that doesn't speak well to the rest of the hotel. The gold-coloured wallpaper is dulled with age, its edges peeling. The carpet is threadbare, worn through in places, and there's a tarnished mirror over the bed, garish and tacky. As Hux is about to step inside, Ben stops him. “Wait. We have to do this right.” With an ease Hux will never admit that he loves, Ben sweeps him off his feet, literally. 

“Ben!” He leans forward, hunching his shoulders so Ben doesn't crack his head against the doorframe as he carries him inside. 

“There.” Ben drops him on the bed. It's excessively soft. Hux goes down and down, feeling like he's being swallowed by a sarlacc pit. Ben sits down and quickly sinks into the crevasse beside him. “Happy honeymoon, husband,” Ben says. He closes the small distance between them and kisses Hux. 

Getting married was stupid, ill-considered and extremely ill-advised. Hux can't deny it, but his entire relationship with Ben could be described the same way. 

They've known each other for three years, since they met at a diplomatic event on Coruscant. Ben was only twenty years old then, massive and sullen, accompanying his mother as she wheedled on behalf of the New Republic. Hux, a twenty-three-year-old lieutenant on the cusp of promotion, was there with a group of his superior officers. Hux was young, but his myriad successes at the Academy and since had led to him being pegged as a leader of the future. That was why he was permitted to attend events like these, while other officers of his age and rank paid their dues in less glamourous postings. 

They spied one another across the crowded room like, as Ben often says, “something out of a romantic holovid.” Hux doesn't remember it quite so rapturously. Ben did catch his eye, but only because he was complaining, loudly in a coarse Republican accent, that the server droid wouldn't give him a drink. 

“I require proof of age to dispense alcoholic beverages.” The droid replied, unfazed by Ben's bad manners. 

“I don't exactly have a speeder license on me. Can't you test my DNA or something?”

“I require proof of age to dispense alcoholic beverages.” The droid turned, ready to move away. 

Hux stopped it. “Two Corellian brandies, neat.” He said, pulling his identitags out of his shirt. The droid scanned them with its bright blue eye and obligingly produced two glasses. When it had filled them, Hux passed one to Ben. 

“Thanks.” Ben nodded. While Ben wasn't exactly handsome, with his young, spotted face and his gigantic ears, he was more attractive than Hux was willing to admit, even to himself. Hux tucked his tags back into his shirt. 

“You're welcome.” He was about to leave when Ben said, “You're a soldier?” 

“Yes.” 

“I like your uniform.” Ben stared as if he'd never seen one before. “You're prettier than I expected a soldier would be.” 

Hux rolled his eyes. “And that's about as suave as I would expect from a New Republican boy.” Hux was flirting. At least, he was doing what he always did with men he found attractive: making caustic remarks and thinly-veiled, or entirely unveiled, insults until they found a secluded corner in which to fuck. Rather than retort, however, as was usual, Ben looked hurt, his smile fading and his broad shoulders sagging. Hux, who would normally have scoffed at such sensitivity, felt a strange stab of regret. “But I suppose you're quite well-built, for a Republican.” Hux let his eyes slide, deliberately slowly, from Ben's face all the way down his body. 

“I'm a Jedi.” 

Hux should have been turned off by that. He should, in fact, have been utterly disgusted. Instead, he stepped closer. “Is that right? Do a trick, then.” 

“They aren't _tricks_ ,” Ben snapped, even as Hux felt something brush against his cheek. He jerked his head around, but of course, there was nothing there. The sensation came again, ghostly fingers trailing over his other cheek, then across his lips. A gasp escaped him. He'd never felt anything like it. It was a sensation of touch without pressure, a warm caress that seemed to bypass his skin and go directly to the core of him. It was all Hux could do to keep from swooning, and that was before the touch trailed down his chest, and then lower. 

“How's that for a trick?” Ben murmured, but there was anxiety in his tone, as if he was truly asking for Hux's approval. Hux should have had a cutting remark on hand. Normally, he would have. Now, though, he was speechless. Feeling as if every eye in the place was on him, Hux cleared his throat and stepped close enough to whisper, “Do you have a room?” 

Ben's mouth dropped open. He shut it, quickly, and gave a debonair shrug. It was too late for that, but Hux didn't care. “Yeah, sure.” 

“Then let's go.” 

***

Their first fuck as newlyweds, in the too-soft bed in the rundown inn, is quick and satisfying. Afterward, they lie together, clutching one another in the dip of the mattress. “It's better now we're married,” Ben says, with conviction. 

“You think so?” 

“Absolutely.” Ben nods. 

Hux, who is never sentimental with anyone but Ben—just the opposite, in fact—strokes his face and kisses his lips. “We're mad.” The potential consequences of their affair are dire to think about, and not just for Hux. He would bear the worst of it. If they found out, the First Order would brand him a security risk at best, a traitor at worst, but Ben, the supposed celibate Jedi, would be in trouble, too.

“I love you,” Ben replies, like that's an answer. Before Hux can say anything at all, there's a knock on the door. 

Immediately, Hux sits up. Ben's hand, firm around his wrist, keeps him from going anywhere. “Who is it?” Ben calls, his voice hard and unwelcoming. 

“It's, ah, it's the manager. Norman.” A thin, reedy voice replies. “I just wanted to welcome you to the inn.” Hux looks at Ben, who looks back at him. He shrugs. Hux sighs pointedly and covers his crotch with the thin red bedsheet, while Ben gets up and pulls on his underwear. 

Ben opens the door to a large basket of fruit. Behind it, staggering under the weight, is a human man. He's dark-haired and tall, nearly as tall as the two of them, but thinner even than Hux, his arms like twigs and his eyes half-sunken, like he's well on his way to becoming a skeleton. He sets the basket on the little round table, then the man's eyes dart over to Hux.

“Ah, con-congratulations,” the man, Norman, says. “On your wedding, I mean.” He stares blatantly. Modesty means nothing to Hux, normally, but under Norman's gaze, he feels awkwardly exposed. Hux frowns and pulls the sheet up to his chest.

“We're not married,” Hux lies. 

“Oh. Ah. I see.” Norman blinks. “Well. Ah, welcome, in any case.” His eyes flit between them like a restless insect. “I just wanted to say welcome.” 

“Thank you,” Ben rumbles, his deep voice full of finality. He holds the door open, but Norman doesn't leave. 

“I know I said you were the only guests, but my mother is here. I thought I should tell you. We live in the suite on the corner. That way.” He points. Hux doesn't bother to look. “You might have seen her in the window. She's...she likes to, ah, wander, sometimes. She's not altogether right. In the head. If you know what I mean. She's old, it's not her fault. She's a good mother. But if, if she bothers you, at all, just let me know, and I'll come deal with it.” 

“All right,” Ben replies.

“Right.” Norman repeats, nodding. “Okay. I'll, ah, I'll leave you alone. Have fun. I mean,” he winces, "congratulations. Again. Or not.” Finally, he ducks out of the room. Ben slams the door behind him and shoots the bolt. 

It's not a moment too soon for Hux. “What the fuck is wrong with him?” 

“Oh, come on. He's not that bad.” Ben returns to the bed. The mattress shifts beneath his weight, and Hux rolls on top of him, luxuriating in the thick, solid feel of Ben's body. Of his _husband's_ body. Hux doesn't think he'll ever get used to that word. “He was obviously affected by my stunning physique.” 

“Oh, you're stunning, all right.” Hux grins, even as he leans in for a kiss. They lie there, making out like teenagers, until Hux's cock begins to stir with renewed interest. The rest of his body protests that it's too soon and, reluctantly, Hux pulls away. “I'm taking a shower,” he says, peeling himself from Ben's hot skin. “Are you coming?” 

“Probably more than once,” Ben replies. It's so stupid and juvenile that Hux laughs despite himself.

***

After that first, incredible night on Coruscant, Hux didn't expect he'd ever see Ben again. They exchanged contact details, but in Hux's limited experience, that didn't mean anything. Even if they'd been on the same side, geographically as well as politically speaking, it would have been next to impossible to maintain any kind of relationship. Being on opposite sides made it out of the question. Or so Hux assumed, until he came off-shift one day to find a message waiting for him. 

It was sent from Republican space, and as such would normally have been rejected, but some careful programming had masked its origins enough to allow it through. As an engineer, Hux admired that. He doubted there was a lot of sophisticated equipment on the Jedi encampment where Ben apparently lived, which meant this probably had something to do with the Force. However it was done, when Hux opened the message and saw Ben smiling back, his heart pounded in a way that was both intoxicating and very, very dangerous. 

“Hi, baby.” Ben was smart enough not to use his name, at least. It wasn't much, but Hux appreciated the discretion, even if he didn't appreciate Ben's choice of code name. “I've been thinking about you a lot.” Hux had, as well. Too much. “I really miss you.” Ben ran a hand through his thick hair. Hux remembered doing the same, burying his hands in it as Ben sucked him. What Ben lacked in experience he'd more than made up for in eagerness. “That sounds really dumb, right? I mean, we barely know each other. But I would like to see you again. I know it's not easy for you to get away, but if there's ever any chance of it, let me know, and I'll figure something out on my end, okay?” Ben bit his lip. Hux's stomach twisted with the physical desire—the _longing_ —to kiss him. “Over and out.” The holo froze, leaving Hux to stare at a static image of Ben. He did, looking at it until his eyes started to ache. _I'm crazy_ , Hux thought. _He's drugged me, or altered my mind with the Force._ There was no other explanation for why Hux, who had been unflinchingly dedicated nearly from birth to the cause and ideals of the First Order, would suddenly want nothing more than to be in the arms of a Republican, and a Jedi. _I have to maintain control_ , he thought, desperately, even as his traitorous mind calculated how soon they could possibly get together again. 

***

Despite the shabbiness of Norman's inn, the refresher is clean, and there's real, hot water in the shower. Stripping down to just his identitags, Hux allows himself to enjoy it, closing his eyes and tilting his head back beneath the spray. Ben mouths his way down Hux's neck and then his body, sucking little souvenirs into his ribs, his stomach, his hips. When Ben reaches his cock, Hux leans back against the tiled wall, made warm and wet by condensation. He sighs as Ben drops kisses along the length of him, then groans, a surprisingly loud sound that echoes off the shower walls when Ben takes him into his mouth. 

Despite the fact it's his second orgasm in less than an hour, Hux comes hard. Ben swallows it all, his throat contracting around Hux's softening cock, then wraps his sturdy arms around Hux as he slides, boneless, down to the floor.

“Fuck, you're the best at that,” Ben whispers, against Hux's wet hair. 

“Shouldn't I be the one saying that to you?” Hux's voice is hoarse enough to be embarrassing. He clears his throat and adds, “Anyway, it's not like you've got any basis for comparison.” 

“Hm.” Ben sighs, seemingly content. “I do, though.” 

Hux looks up sharply. “What?” 

“I did it with one of the other padawans.” Ben says this casually, like it's nothing worth noting.

“You what?” Hux sits up straight, then stands, pushing Ben away from him. 

“It didn't mean anything, of course. But I wanted to try it with someone else, to see if what we have is really as special as I think it is.” He smiles, and Hux's chest contracts, not in a pleasant way. 

“So you decided to corrupt your little Jedi friends?” The mental image of Ben seducing some wide-eyed, virginal fellow Jedi is alluring, a little, but the attraction is heavily outweighed by the unpleasant, nauseated feeling the thought elicits in Hux. He turns off the water, slamming the faucet so hard the pipes groan. 

“You can't possibly be pissed off, Hux.” Ben complains, as Hux steps out of the shower and picks up a towel. Ben follows, placing a hand on Hux's shoulder. Hux shakes him off. “Are you kidding me?” Ben frowns. “We just got married. Why would you be jealous of some one-night stand?” 

“Oh, I don't know.” He endeavours to sound sarcastic, but he doesn't quite make it. He and Ben do meet up as often as they can, which isn't very often at all. Hux buries himself in his work when they're apart, but he can't expect Ben, living in the middle of nowhere on his boring Jedi commune, to do the same. Until today, at their wedding, Ben never promised to be faithful or anything like it and, if he's reasonable, Hux can't really expect it now. They have so little time together, it's not fair to demand Ben deny himself when they're apart. “Fine. That's fine. You should see other people, if you want.”

“Fuck, Hux, are you even listening to me? I don't want to see other people. I tried it out, which was a mistake, but also not, because it convinced me there really is no one for me but you.” He grabs Hux's hand. Hux lets him, this time, and he allows Ben to drag him close. 

“But we're hardly ever together.” 

“At least we won't get bored of one another.” 

“Ben...” There's so much Hux wants to say, but he doesn't know where to start. Their marriage, which wouldn't even be considered binding in First Order territory, is a terrible idea. It's pointless and it's absolutely doomed to fail. Still, when Hux thinks back on the way Ben looked when they exchanged their vows, the way he grinned and the way he kissed Hux over and over again while the harried registrar, who didn't even know their names, notarized the legal forms, he can't bring himself to regret it. 

“I know.” Ben lowers his voice again. “There's a lot about it that sucks.” Just like that, Hux is reminded of how young Ben is. “But I'm still the happiest guy in the galaxy.” He moves in for a kiss. Hux closes his eyes and leans forward, only to flinch, a little, at the sound of someone knocking on the door. 

Ben sighs. “Ignore it,” Hux suggests, but Ben is already tying the towel around his waist. 

“I'll be right back,” he promises and goes, shutting the refresher door behind him. 

It's Norman, of course. Hux can hear his snivelling voice, even if he can't make out the words. After what seems like a ridiculously long time, the front door shuts, and Ben comes back, a blast of cold air sweeping in as he opens the refresher door. “What did he want?” Hux pulls another thin towel around his shoulders. He's nearly dry, except for his damp hair, but the chill of the air makes him want to get back into the shower. 

“He's lost his mom.” 

“Kriff. Probably ran away from him, if she has any sense.” 

“Come on, Hux.” Ben nudges him. “He's just a bit drippy.” 

“More than a bit.” With one last, longing look at the shower, Hux leaves the refresher. He considers, momentarily, getting dressed, but instead, he slides naked into bed. Ben goes over and takes a pear from the basket on the table. 

“It might surprise you to know that I was like that, once.” Ben polishes the pear on his bare chest. Hux's stomach rumbles, but he hesitates to ask Ben to throw him something. _Norman probably sneezed all over it_ , Hux thinks, bitterly. “Fortunately, I found a sophisticated older man to show me the ways of the galaxy.” He flops on the bed beside Hux, taking a big, crunching bite of the pear.

As much as he'd love to launch into another round of sex, Hux needs a break. They both do. Lying together, they watch a holofilm, something about a woman who embezzles a large number of credits from her workplace in order to run off with her lover. 

“Must be in Republican space,” Hux says, teasing. “The First Order would have caught her the second she stepped out the door.” 

“And sent her to 'reconditioning'?” Ben retorts. 

“Execution, more likely.” It would depend who her parents were, and how highly she, and they, were placed. Hux, for example, is positioned to be sent to reconditioning if his relationship with Ben is exposed, but he'll only get one shot at it. If he relapses, that will be it: a blaster bolt through the brain and his body pushed out an airlock. If he's ever caught, Hux plans on asking for that first. He'd just as soon not go through reconditioning for no reason, and he knows there's nothing short of death that will keep him away from Ben. 

“Come with me.” 

Hux looks up from the screen. “Where are we going?” 

“I mean, for good. Come with me, Hux.” 

“Back to Uncle Luke? You must be joking.” 

“I'll leave him. He doesn't like me much anyway. You and I can make our own life together.” 

“Doing what, exactly?” It's a pleasing fantasy, but that's just what it is. There's no point indulging it. 

“I don't know,” Ben admits. “We could find my dad, maybe. Fly around with him for a while.” 

“The pirate?” 

“He's not a pirate, exactly,” Ben says, although Hux knows that's just what he is. “He's a...businessman.” 

“Right.” 

“Wouldn't you want to leave?” 

_No_ , is the short answer, but it's more complicated than that. “You could come with me,” Hux says, instead. “We couldn't be together yet, not for a while, but once I make colonel, I'm allowed to apply for married quarters.” Not to mention the fact that Ben's abilities would be extremely useful to the First Order. 

This is a discussion they've had before, more than once. Rather than continue it, Ben rolls over, pushing Hux back into the dip in the mattress. The bed comes up on either side of him, boxing him in. When Ben rolls on top of him, he feels surrounded, safe. For now. 

Forgetting the ridiculous holovid, they kiss. Slowly, Ben moves down again, licking over the marks he left in the shower. With a smile, Hux lets his eyes slide open, and that's when he sees it: a flicker of movement over Ben's shoulder, reflected in the mirror above the bed. 

“Ben.” Hux sits bolt upright, knocking Ben to one side. 

“What?”

“I saw something.” He looks around, to the left and then the right. The room is empty. 

“What was it?”

Hux shakes his head. “I don't know. It was just a...a movement.” 

“Might be vermin,” Ben says, like that's supposed to comfort him. 

“It's probably nothing.” Logically, it has to be nothing. There are only two entrances to the room, the door and a small window, behind the drawn curtains. Both are within clear view of the bed. There's no way anybody could sneak in either one without being seen. Hux lies back down, then sits up again. “I mean, it has to be...”

“I'll check it out.” Ben gets out of bed. He picks up the silent light saber from where it lies on the floor, tangled up in Ben's cloak, and walks the perimeter of room. It's a very short walk. When Ben disappears into the refresher, Hux lies back, feeling like an idiot. _It's the stress of all this_ , he thinks. _I'm losing my fucking mind._ “I couldn't see anything,” Ben says, coming back into the bedroom. His tone is non-judgmental, but it doesn't make Hux feel any less foolish. “Are you hungry?” Ben asks, putting the light saber on the table. “For real food, I mean? We passed a little restaurant on the way here.” Hux doesn't remember it. He assumes he was too busy silently breaking down over what they'd just done to take much notice of the scenery. “You can stay, if you want,” Ben says. He's already getting dressed, pulling his tunic over his head. “It's our honeymoon. We should have dinner in bed.” 

Hux doesn't want to be alone. He wants to cling to Ben, but that, of course, is nonsense. He's an officer of the First Order. He doesn't need anyone, least of all his Republican husband, to protect him from imagined ghosts. “Fine.” Hux shrugs in a way he hopes seems casual. “Get something good.” Ben kisses him before he goes, a chaste peck on the lips, as if they really are a normal married couple. 

The room seems very quiet when Ben's gone. Ben's not that much taller than Hux, which Hux appreciates, but he is extremely large, both in body and in presence. Hux appreciates that too, normally, but now, it just makes him notice Ben's absence all the more. He draws his knees up to his chest, like a child, and flicks through the holochannels, stopping briefly on a news report. When Ben's mother comes on, talking about tariffs or trade sanctions or something, he switches it off and goes into the refresher. 

The tiny plastisteel bottle of shampoo has fallen onto its side in the bottom of the shower. Hux flushes, then steps into the shower to right the bottle. A small puddle has leaked onto the floor, and Hux turns on the water to rinse it away. It's then, as he idly watches the shampoo disappear down the drain, that the refresher door flies open. 

It happens so quickly, Hux doesn't have time to think. He moves purely on instinct, drawing back as a figure rushes in. It's a tall woman in a dress, her grey hair done up in a bun. She has a knife in her hand, and she thrusts it toward Hux. Years of training take over. Hux blocks the attack with his forearm, his skin stinging as the blade slashes at him. Blood from the wound coats the knife. The woman makes another attempt. Again, she lunges at Hux, but the motion knocks her off-balance. Hux takes advantage of it. With one hand, he grabs the knife from her, tossing it away and twisting her arm behind her back. With the other, he punches her in the face. 

The woman hits the edge of the sink on her way down, hard. A crack fills the small room, and she collapses, insensate, on the floor. Kicking the knife out the open door, Hux picks up a threadbare towel and rips it in two, tying half of it as a bandage around his wounded arm. 

It's the innkeeper, Norman. There's no doubt about it. It's Norman's slack-jawed face, and the grey hair, clearly a wig, has been knocked askew, revealing Norman's dark hair beneath it. 

It's dangerous for Hux to use his comm in Republican space. Calls can too easily be traced, and questions are too easily invited. Still, he needs Ben back here, now. Closing one eye—he doesn't trust Norman enough to close both—Hux concentrates. Reaching out with his mind, he searches for Ben. It's never worked before, but he's never tried it when they were so close together. _Ben._ He thinks, hard, trying to project as loudly as he can. _Come here. Come back. I need you._ There is no reply.

Hux sighs. Stepping over Norman, he gets his clothes. Relief, almost palpable, fills him when Hux gets his hand on his blaster. As inconvenient as it is, he keeps it there while he gets dressed. 

Thinking back to his—slightly illicit—Academy days, Hux pulls the thin red sheet off the bed and twists it into a rope. Venturing back into the refresher, he ties the rope around Norman's wrists, then runs it around a pipe beneath the sink. Hux yanks on the knot, to make sure it's secure, and shuts the door on Norman, propping a chair underneath the handle on the other side. 

It's then, and only then, that Hux allows himself to swear. “Fuck!” He calls to the quiet room, and rests his head in his hands. 

Hux's arm stops bleeding quickly. Looking at it, it seems he was only lightly wounded, the knife barely cutting his skin. Hux is relieved by that. He doesn't want to have to explain scars when he gets back home. _He could have killed me, though,_ Hux thinks. If Hux had been someone else, someone weaker or less battle-trained, he probably would have. _Has he done it before?_ Suddenly, Hux thinks of Norman's mother. He told Ben she was lost, but he's obviously completely fucking mad. Might she be hurt somewhere? 

Hux hesitates, for a moment, then gets up and leaves the room. Sure enough, the figure he first saw in the far unit is still there, a shadowy silhouette standing in the window. Gripping his blaster, Hux walks over to the door. “Hello?” He calls. The figure doesn't move. “I've...” He hesitates, unsure what to say. I've just incapacitated your crazy son? It seems a little blunt, even to Hux. “Are you all right? Do you require any sort of assistance?” No answer. He should leave her alone, he thinks. Maybe she's just as crazy as Norman. Maybe they're in it together. 

The hard, independent, First Order part of Hux tells him to walk away, to leave the woman to her own devices. It's the other part—the part that remembers Hux's mother's soft voice and gentle hands, the part that agreed to marry Ben despite the danger and inherent stupidity of the idea—that makes Hux raise his hand to knock. 

The door is unlocked. At Hux's touch, it swings open, revealing a darkened room. “Hello?” Hux calls, again. There's still no answer, so he steps inside. 

The smell is atrocious. Gagging, Hux slams his free hand over his nose and mouth. As Hux's eyes adjust to the dim light, he realizes the room is filled with animals. A felinx, a loth cat, a nexu. When none of them move, he peers closer, squinting, and sees they're all stuffed. Some are in very good condition; others are tattered and maimed, their fur matted and their limbs twisted into unnatural shapes. Ignoring the glassy-eyed stares, Hux takes a step closer to the woman. She's leaning against the wall, her back to Hux. “I've just had an encounter with Norman,” he says, loudly, from behind his hand. Still, the woman doesn't react. 

Hux frowns. “Can you hear me? Do you speak Basic? Your son just attacked me in the fucking shower...” He reaches out, to touch the woman's shoulder. In a single, fluid movement, she spins around. 

Norman's mother, if that's who this is, is very, very dead, and has been for some time. She's halfway between skeleton and corpse, her eye sockets gaping, black holes and the remnants of her skin patchy, the waxy colour of putrescence. Her head swings wildly on her neck, moving in a way no head should. With a scream, Hux staggers backward. Unbalanced, the body follows, crashing onto Hux. It weighs him down as if by force of will, clutching at him with bony, claw-like hands. Gasping for air, Hux throws it aside. It lands on the floor with an appalling _squelch_ as Hux stumbles out of the room, running faster than his feet can carry him.

Ben's outside. “Hux! What...” Heedless of the tray of food in his hands, Hux throws his arms around Ben and holds on.

***

“He didn't kill his mother.” The woman, Dr. Glebe or Glib or something, looks Hux in the eye, like that's something he wants to know. Ben is beside him, a comforting arm around Hux's shoulders, while medics load Norman into the hovering ambulance. “He wouldn't do that. I know Norman well. He's been coming to see me regularly for some time now.” She shakes her head. “It's sad it came to this.”

“Sad?” Hux chokes. “He nearly killed me!” 

“That is unfortunate.” 

“Unfortunate?” Hux parrots, rage simmering within him. 

“He's very sick, Hux,” Ben puts in, which is all Hux needs to boil over. 

“I don't give a fuck how sick he is! I could be dead. And as far as I'm concerned, doctor, if you knew he was like this, then you should have put something in the fucking guidebook.” 

“The depth of his illness surprised me.” Now, she sounds defensive. “Of course, we had no idea he had...preserved his mother here at the inn. He will be confined to a psychiatric institute for the foreseeable future.” Typical soft-hearted Republican nonsense. Hux feels like screaming, or spitting. Perhaps both. 

“I should have killed him on the spot.” Mental weakness is the worst kind of weakness, in Hux's opinion, and in that of the First Order. The only response is to cull it before it can infect others. Not that it really matters to him, in this case. Hux is never going to set foot on this planet again. If he has his way, he'll avoid the entire system.

The doctor remains calm. That's just as infuriating as anything else. “Norman has never been violent before. Maybe he, or she, saw something in you that was a threat.” The doctor glances over her shoulder. “If you want to talk more...”

“I don't.” 

“Then I bid you farewell.” She bows, strangely formal, and climbs into the ambulance. It goes, kicking up dust as it leaves, and Hux looks at Ben. 

“I'm not staying here.” 

“No,” Ben agrees, which is good. Hux didn't want to argue about that. “We could try and find another hotel, or...”

“Let's just go to the spaceport.” There are only eight hours before Hux's shuttle is scheduled to leave, anyway. 

***

“I'm just sorry it took so much time away from our honeymoon.” Ben sighs, as they sit in the corner of a dirty cantina at the planet's spaceport. It's open around the clock. Somehow, Hux isn't surprised. “I don't know when I'll see you again.” Hux doesn't know, either, but that situation is hardly new. “I've got you something,” Ben says, putting his empty glass down on the table in front of them. 

“What?” Hux watches as Ben reaches into his satchel. He pulls out a ring, narrow and golden, glinting even in the dim light of the cantina.

“It's my mother's,” Ben says. “My father gave it to her. They split up in the end, but they were really happy for a while. I asked her if I could have it, and she said yes.” 

“She didn't ask what you wanted it for?” Ben shrugs. “We said no rings, Ben.” Hux wouldn't be allowed to wear one on duty, even if his marriage was above-board and approved. This one is anything but. 

“I know. It wouldn't fit you anyway, it's a woman's ring.” Ben reaches into the satchel again. This time, he pulls out a gold chain. “I just thought you could hang onto it. Wear it, if you want, under your uniform, or keep it in your quarters. So you don't forget about me.”

With his big, meaty fingers, Ben delicately threads the chain through the ring. As he passes it to Hux, Hux's chest constricts. “I'm sorry, I don't have anything for you,” he says, like he's arrived empty handed to a Life Day party. 

“It's fine.” Ben smiles. “Really. You've given me the best gift there is already.” Ben doesn't mean that. Nobody ever does. Fortunately, an idea strikes Hux.

Reaching into his shirt, he pulls his identitags over his head. He holds out the chain, the two holographic tags glinting in the light. “Take them,” he urges, when Ben doesn't move. 

“Don't you need those?” 

“I'll say they were stolen.” He'll get a slap on the wrist for being careless with First Order property, but they'll issue a new set without too much fuss. “Just don't try to use them to get a drink or anything.” 

Hux watches as Ben puts the chain around his neck, tucking the tags into his shirt. 

“You know, I have some sympathy for old Norman.” Before Hux can launch into apoplectic outrage, Ben holds up a hand. “I mean, love drives me to do crazy shit, too. All the time.” 

"What? That's not at all the--" Ben cuts him off with a kiss. Hux allows it. He clings to Ben, even, his arms around Ben's broad shoulders while they shamelessly devour one another, right there in public. Even now, Hux can't get enough of it, of Ben's feel and taste and of the way Ben's hand grips tightly to one of Hux's thighs, like he's afraid Hux is going to disappear. _Crazy_ , Hux repeats, to himself. There's no other word for it. Crazier still, Hux doesn't want him to let go. 

“I have to see you again,” Ben groans, when they break for air. Hux feels it, too, a profound sense of missing Ben even while they're still together. _Maybe Ben's right,_ Hux thinks. Maybe that is how Norman felt: so consumed by someone else, he couldn't bear to be separated from them, under any circumstances. “Soon." 

“I know.” 

“But next time,” Ben says, his forehead against Hux's and warm breath puffing over Hux's face, “you get to choose the hotel.”

**Author's Note:**

> Based on the 1960 Hitchcock classic "Psycho." Includes mild violence, a brief encounter with a decomposing body and mention of mental illness, not always in a supportive way. 
> 
> Fun fact: "Psycho" was the first movie to show a toilet flushing on screen. So of course, I had to mention that, too.


End file.
